‘The Book of Mormon’ @ Proctors, 3/12/14

SCHENECTADY — “The Book of Mormon” is deftly genius in its balancing act.

The smash-hit musical, playing at Proctors through Sunday, at once savages Broadway conventions while bear-hugging them. It is both sacrilegious and and devout, snarky and earnest, foul-mouthed yet ultimately wholesome. It wants to offend and to be loved, and miraculously, it manages all of that while still being wildly funny, tuneful and visually engaging.

The combination is unsurprising given the brains behind the show: “South Park” co-creators Matt Stone and Trey Parker share credit for the book, music and lyrics with Robert Lopez, one of the originators of “Avenue Q.” It incorporates the blend of adult humor and sunny, childlike sweetness that characterizes their respective work, and it does so with one of the most unexpected premises ever for a record-breaking musical: a pair of 19-year-old Mormon men are sent to a Ugandan village for their two-year mission to spread the word of, and try to convert the locals to, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

They are Elder Price (Mark Evans), a tall, handsome, accomplished guy of whom great things are expected, by himself and the church; and Elder Cunningham (Christopher John O’Neill), a short, shlumpy fellow with the temperament of a follower but a great talent for confabulation that comes in handy when he tells the story of the Book of Mormon to the villagers. After a sendoff by their parents and a Price-dominated duet about their hopes for the mission, “You and Me (But Mostly Me),” they make it to Uganda, where the villagers teach them a catchy song about coping with life’s hardships that they discover has as its central phrase and title a rude tell-off of the almighty (Google “Hasa Diga Eebowai”).

As the extent of what the’ve gotten themselves into becomes clear — the Mormon missionaries who are already there have converted no one, and a warlord terrorizes the village with murder and female circumcision — Price has a revelation: “Africa is nothing like ‘The Lion King.’ I think that movie took a lot of artistic license.” As he loses his way temporarily, Cunningham comes to the fore. His lessons about the foundations of the Mormon faith, while incorporating elements of “Star Wars,” “Star Trek,” “The Lord of the Rings” and more, offer the villagers, who are wise enough to recognize metaphors and parables when they hear them, an accessible, appealing understanding of the religion.

Stone, Parker and Lopez, working with Casey Nicholaw, who choreographed and co-directed with Parker, incorporate a variety of musical and movement styles. “The Book of Mormon” is rich in pastiche, homage and knowing appropriation, whether with a literal dance with the devil that includes a kick line, a baptismal song that doubles as a romantic duet or running gags including Cunningham’s repeated mangling of the name of a woman villager he fancies, Nabulungi. (He calls her, among other things, Neosporin, Neutrogena, Necrophilia and even Neil Patrick Harris.)

O’Neill is an appealing comedian, verbally and physically, but his portrayal at times owes too much to Josh Gad, who originated the role on Broadway. Evans is more effective at distinguishing himself from Andrew Rannells, who created the role (and who, coincidentally, will be singing a pops program with the Philadelphia Orchestra at SPAC this summer). With a voice that’s clear and strong in its upper register, Evans excels on his songs including “I Believe,” and he’s an ace dancer; his moves have pop and finish.

Cheeky and gleeful and hilarious, “The Book of Mormon” is also, in its way, reverential toward its two inspirations, Broadway and the Mormon faith.